Sharpen a blade too much
  and its edge will soon be lost
Fill a house with gold and jade
  and no one can protect it
Puff yourself with honor and pride
  and no one can save you from a fall

—Verse Nine, Tao Te Ching

Every time I start to write, I’m led back to this. It would appear that it’s time to express myself. Perhaps I’m ready. It feels like I’m only scratching the surface, trying to cover aspects of something that I have yet to understand. In the shower I decided to split this into several entries of a series, and in my room the lights are all on.

There’s been more instability in the last month than in the last three years of my life combined. Everything I knew, everything I believed in, has been turned upside-down. Although I’m still trying to figure out what happened, the fact of the matter is that there was a long, drawn-out crisis. This crisis, which appears to have passed, still affects my thoughts, my actions, and my beliefs.

Even though I don’t completely have my feet on the ground, it feels like I’m comfortable enough to explore what’s happened now. This is not an easy task. A single, seemingly innocuous thought can end up breaking the strands of the delicate web I’m treading.

If I can get it all down, I’ll know I’ve gone that far at least.

The Awakening Series

1. Introduction
2. Cause
3. The Reborn Dreamer

It’s Friday, and Hurricane Katrina, more than 2000 kilometres away, has thrown cold winds and scattered showers over parts of Southern Ontario, Quebec, and New Brunswick. As I step outside to grill something on the barbeque, the cats quickly run to the screen door. They temporarily forget that they’re enemies, that they normally can’t walk past each other without a swipe or a hiss, and sit side-by-side to carefully smell the damp wind coming through.

People name hurricanes after their former lovers. The headlines are always the same:

After cheating with co-worker, Hurricane Camille leaves 250 dead from Louisiana to Virginia

$400 million dollars in damage and 1145 fatalities as Hurricane Gordon weaves through the Caribbean and takes half my CD collection with him before disappearing in his Camaro.

The cats know that something has happened. They can tell that this weather is coming from somewhere else, and that many have been affected, the way some dogs know that their owners are dating the wrong people and won’t stop defending them with their lips drawn back in a snarl.

But all the cats can do is sit and sniff.

Between the overtime and the venture meetings with Aaron, the restless nights and the early mornings, I try to catch my breath. It’s good to be busy, but not when it means I don’t have the time or energy to write. This is the probably the most infrequent publishing period I’ve ever been through since the start of this blog. Thoughts develop in my head, but I’m not ready to get them down and hit publish yet. Maybe it’s a comfort thing, maybe it’s a front, maybe I’ve simply lost the desire to document every single detail of my life.

Through all of this I feel myself regaining some stability, although I tread lightly, remaining both conscious and cautious. This is the most I can say for now.

It was five days of relaxation, with someone I could spill my guts to. The only person who knows everything about me, every embarrassing experience I’ve had, every dark secret in the back of my mind. I could try, but I doubt that I would ever be able to explain my relationship with John. Let the indescribable remain so.

Most of the time was spent in conversation. In the car we would cruise. On the couches we laid ourselves out, both as shrink and patient. We revisited my old stomping grounds, the university campus with its dull, right-angle architecture. There was a bit of serendipity during his stay, the kind of happenstance that makes one question their sense of faith, fate, or lack thereof. After a series of random and correct turns, it was a sudden, rather terrifying, confrontation of months of meditation on the second introduction. Something I’ve been discussing with John ever since I started writing about it, something I wasn’t ready for at all, and something we happened to catch on camera.

…A week I’ve taken off as part of my available vacation days. There’s something satisfying about being paid to have fun. We haven’t seen each other in over half a year, so the five days will be calculated and precise, squeezing in the things that we’ve been meaning to do together in every available second.

On his way over, John was also able to pick up a small care package from my parents, complete with new dress shirts, loose leaf tea, homemade banana bread, ginseng (LOTS of ginseng that I can now add to chicken soup), and an assortment of books that I’ve been meaning to bring.